The Five-Day Engagement
by Lambent Flame
Summary: When Mr. Burns becomes engaged to a woman, Smithers must come to terms with his feelings remaining unrequited and decide whether he can handle the marriage and remain Burns' friend and employee, or whether they should part ways. But disengaging may prove more difficult than he anticipated.
1. Chapter 1

**The Five-Day Engagement**

 **Chapter One**

"I don't know what to do," said Smithers, staring past Marge and fixing his gaze on the corn curtains abutting the Simpsons' kitchen window, clutching his cup of tea like a child clinging to a teddy bear. "It all happened so fast."

"Then maybe they won't last. You said they've only been seeing each other for a few weeks."

"I hope you're right. Ever since they started going out, I hardly have the chance to do anything with Monty. We used to go out to dinner, to the theater, to the art galleries. Now, it's always: 'Off you go, Smithers!' 'Go home to your can of soup, Smithers!' 'Don't you have some sweeping to do, Smithers?' It's like we aren't even friends anymore."

"Oh, Waylon, I'm so sorry. Sometimes, my Homie ignores my need for companionship, too, and I feel like I may as well be his servant. What I've had to do is tell him what I need from him, and he'll take me for a romantic evening out. Mr. Burns might not give you the romantic evening you want, but you can demand his respect as a human being and as a friend."

"Demand? Of Mr. Burns? I can't remember the last time I've 'demanded' anything from Mr. Burns, but I do remember it didn't end well."

"Just tell him that as much as you love your job, as his friend, you want to have... a boys' night out, since he's been spending all of his time with this..."

"Tiffany."

"Right," said Marge, sipping her tea. "Something you'll have to decide for yourself is if you'll even be comfortable working for him after he's married."

"Of course I want to keep working for him. I love being with him, even though I know he doesn't love me." He set his cup of tea down on the saucer. "My God, I'm pathetic."

"I know this is hard, but isn't it better to learn to accept that he won't fall in love with you than to keep clinging to an impossible hope?"

He sighed. "I know you're right, but...but..." He started to cry, putting his hands over his eyes, and Marge put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "I was so sure we were meant for each other. Maybe that sounds stupid to you, but we've had some really good times together. Just last month, we were watching Casablanca on his settee, and he leaned his head against my shoulder the whole time, and at the end, he looked up into my eyes, and we hugged each other. He sniffed back a tear and confessed he missed the warm, comforting touch of another person, and for one, stupid moment, I thought I could provide that comforting touch he craved.

"A few days later, he met Tiffany at the dog show with her German Short-haired Pointer, and I ended up driving two short-haired bitches home that night. I spent the next few weeks ferrying her and Mr. Burns around town for dates, and now he's asked her to marry her and she's said yes and now I'm wondering what the goddamn point of the last twenty years of my life was."

"Maybe you should find a boyfriend. You know, Julio just broke up with Grady again. He mentioned you."

"It's too soon for – what did he say about me?"

"He said he missed you and didn't see why you're so in love with Mr. Burns."

"Nobody sees why. You'd have to know Mr. Burns like I do." He sipped his tea. "What else did he say about me?"

"He said, well..." She leaned in and whispered into Smithers' ear, "that you were good in bed."

"Judging by the blush in your cheek, you still have that little crush on me, don't you?" Marge chuckled self-consciously. "I don't mind, as long as you keep your lips off mine." He sipped his tea again. "But I'm going to have to call it quits for tonight. I need a drink much stiffer than tea to drown my sorrows."

"Take care, Waylon," she said as they both stood from their chairs. Putting her hands on Smithers' elbows, she said, "Remember, you can talk to me anytime."

"Thanks, Marge. I'll remember that." He walked outside to the front lawn of the Simpson house and dialed in his cell phone. "Hi, Julio! ... It's good to hear you, too. It has been too long. Would you be interested in getting some drinks with me tonight? ... Great! I'll pick you up in about ten minutes."

Waylon and Julio stood in line outside The League of Extra-Horny Gentlemen. "So," said Julio, "What did you have in mind for tonight?"

"Well..." His eyes wandered to the "Extra-Horny" part of the sign.

Julio lowered his eyelids seductively as he squeezed Waylon's bicep. "I have a feeling we're on the same page."

The bouncers looked them up and down. "You're in," said one to Julio, while the other said, "But not you," holding his palm up to Waylon.

Julio said, "Either he gets in, or I leave." While the bouncers looked to each other in silent deliberation, Julio pinched Waylon's cheek. "Isn't adorkable in right now?" The bouncers nodded and waved them in.

As they approached the counter, Waylon said, "Wow, they've really revamped this place. I haven't been in here since –"

"Since you had a hot, young boyfriend."

Turning to the bartender, Waylon said, "A margarita and a scotch and water, please."

"You remember my favorite drink."

"Actually, scratch the scotch and water. I'll have a Sex on the Beach." The bartender nodded and fixed their drinks.

"So, what made you change your mind?"

"Scotch is what I drink when I'm depressed. Sex on the Beach is what I have when I want to have fun."

"A word to the wise: it's only fun until you get sand in unexpected places." The bartender handed them their drinks, and they clinked their glasses together. "To second chances," said Julio, and they took long sips of their drinks.

They sat together, drinking and talking, at first about light, superficial topics, then broaching the topic of their previous relationship. "I never should've left you," said Waylon, stroking Julio's cheek.

"It's not your fault, Waylon. You can't help but love Monty."

"God, I miss hearing you call me that. I love the way you say my name." He took another sip of his third Sex on the Beach. "And Monty's never going to love me. I realize that now. I was a fool for ever thinking he could love me." He finished his drink. "I've given up on him for good."

"Wow, you're serious about this. What was the last straw?"

"He's getting married."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not."

"You can't be serious. You've loved the man for half of your life."

"Okay, maybe I am a little bit devastated, but I know you're not really sorry. You're glad he's driving me into your arms."

"Yes, I admit it."

"But you know, I'm sick of the dating scene. I want to settle down and devote myself to one man, not constantly juggling between the man I work for and the man I'm sleeping with. We had a good thing going, and I'm sorry I had to ruin it, because Julio," he said, laying his hands on Julio's, "when I think back to when we were together, those were some of the best days I've had."

"Waylon, I – I'm touched, really I am, and –"

"I love you."

"And you don't know how much I've wanted to hear those words from your lips. But you hurt me. How do I know you won't use me for passionate sex and emotional support just to go back to – him?"

"Because I'm willing to commit to you now. Julio, I'd gladly spend my life with you."

"Are you seriously proposing to me, drunk in a hook-up bar, without any ring?"

"I, uh, guess I am." Julio sipped his drink. "Well?" Julio steadily drank until he was looking straight at the bottom of his glass.

"Maybe it's the margaritas, but... let's do it!"

"I understand, it's a big – you mean it?"

"Like I make a mean margarita."

"When should we do it?"

"Let's get hitched tonight in Vegas."

"Isn't that kind of tacky?"

"Tackier than proposing in a hook-up bar with no ring?"

"Point taken. But you mean it? We're getting married? Tonight?"

"I mean it if you mean it."

"But I mean, tonight? That's crazy."

"You need a little craziness in your life."

"Okay. Yes. We're doing it. I'll book the flight; you book the hotel." They kissed, then started looking up flights and hotel deals on their phones.

Once in their tuxes at the Fly-By-Night Vegas Chapel, around eleven o'clock, Waylon called Marge on his cell phone. "Marge! Guess where I am and what's happening to me."

"Waylon, are you all right?" she said, sitting up in alarm in her bed and turning the light on, drawing Homer's attention.

"I'm better than all right. I'm getting married!"

"What?"

"I proposed to Julio a couple hours ago, and now we're in Vegas about to get married!"

"Don't you think that's unwise, getting married so fast?"

"I heard you married Homer at Shotgun Pete's, so I don't think you're in a position to look your nose down on me."

"No, I'm not looking down on you, not at all. Just, are you sure you're really ready to commit to spending your life with him?"

"I've been ready to commit for fifteen years, and he wants to spend his life with me."

"I mean, are you sure you aren't just on the rebound from Mr. Burns? Because Julio was really upset when you first broke up with him."

"Marge, I understand why you're skleptilal. But believe me, I've thought this through. I love Julio, and Mr. Burns is in the past."

"Are you drunk?"

"No, not at all. Okay, I am, but I'd do the same if I were sober."

"Please, reconsider. Sleep on it, and wait to get married in the morning."

The wedding march played on a poor-quality synthesizer in the background. "Sorry, gotta let you go, Marge. Next time you see me, I'll be a married man!" He hung up the phone and approached the altar.

In her bedroom, Marge turned to Homer and said, "I'm worried about Waylon."

"Yeah," said Homer, "Mr. Burns getting engaged has really made him nutty."

"And poor Julio must be desperate to accept an impromptu proposal like that."

"Yes. Well, goodnight, Marge."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Five-Day Engagement**

 **Chapter Two**

"Mr. Burns," said Waylon as he walked into Burns' office the next morning. "I have some big news."

"Don't tell me – you got a good deal on a Malibu Stacy trinket?"

"Nope. Even better."

"You're putting on another musical?"

Waylon shook his head. "I don't think you'll ever guess it."

Burns squinted his eyes, then opened them wide. "You got married?"

"How did you guess?"

"I spotted your ring." He stood from his desk and approached. "Good heavens, Smithers, I didn't know you were even seeing anyone."

"I wasn't. I proposed to an old flame. Or rather, a young flame."

"Well, congratulations, Waylon," he said, hugging him, then holding onto his elbows as they parted. "So, what's the lucky young lady's name?"

"Mr. Burns, please don't tell me you still think I'm straight."

"Why, no, of course not. You're as crooked as I want you to be. Nevertheless, I demand a straight answer to my question."

"No, Monty, I mean I married a man. His name is Julio."

"Oh, yes, I've heard that's a thing that happens these days." He clasped his hands around Waylon's and said again, "Congratulations, Waylon. I hope you have many happy years together."

"Thank you, sir. And I hope you're happy with your soon-to-be wife."

"Well, this is an occasion that calls for celebration, isn't it? Smithers, pour us some bubbly!"

"Yes, sir!"

He chuckled as Smithers retrieved a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes. As he poured, Burns said, "For awhile there, I thought you would never outgrow your little crush on me."

Smithers dropped the bottle and the glasses, and all shattered, leaving the expensive champagne to seep into the carpet. "Y-you knew?"

"Why, of course, Smithers. I have eyes. What do you take me for, some simpleton from Sector 7-G?"

"You _knew_?"

"Are you deaf as well as oblivious?"

"B-but sir, why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't I? Why didn't _you_?"

"B-because I thought you might, I don't know, fire me!"

"I wouldn't fire you over such a trifling matter. I mean, it's not as though you were in love with me."

"But I am! I mean, I _was_. Deeply, madly in love with you."

"You really felt that deeply about me?"

"Yes. I love you. I have always loved you, ever since I began interning for you. And to tell the truth, that's never going to change. I still love you."

"I didn't realize... I thought it was a superficial, schoolboy crush." He brought his hand to his forehead and wrinkled his brow. "You truly love me?"

"More than the stars and the moon."

"Waylon..."

"We can still work together and be friends, right?"

"Yes, yes. Friends. I was going to invite you to spend an evening with me tomorrow, a last hurrah before my nuptials, but in light of your newfound matrimony, I suppose it's appropriate to invite your new husband as well."

"That sounds like it would be a little awkward. You see, you're the reason I broke up with him before."

"Oh. I see."

"But if we invite a few other people, like the Simpsons, I'm sure it won't be as awkward."

"I want to have an exclusive gathering of my bosom buddies – namely, you. I'm not turning this into Billy-Bob's weddin' hoedown."

"I guess I can go alone. I never did have a bachelor party."

"Well, don't expect any gigolos. It'll be a tame affair – watching films, playing cards, that sort of thing."

"I won't want to tell him I'm with you, though. He'd jump to conclusions, and I don't want him to worry. Because he really doesn't have anything to worry about. I wouldn't make a move on you."

"Yes, there's no need to worry him."

"Oh, and Julio and I are having a reception next week in the park. I'd love to see you there."

"Yes. I'll be there. You're still available to be my best man, yes?"

"Of course."

The following evening, after work, Smithers called Julio to tell him he was working late, then drove Burns home. Once inside the mansion, Smithers went to the bar to get a couple of snifters of brandy, then brought them to a settee by the fireplace.

"So," said Burns, "how did you meet your husband?"

"At a party Homer Simpson threw for me. You had told me I meant nothing to you, and I was depressed, so he invited a bunch of gay guys to a party at his house to try to fix me up with somebody. Julio massaged my neck, and we went home together. We had a great time going out, but I ruined it by being hung up over you, even after I quit. I'm just glad that he's been pining for me since we broke up and was willing to give me a second chance."

"So that was when you quit. You did seem happy then," he said, his voice dipping into somber tones. "It was a more miserable time for me."

"I could tell. You wouldn't have been willing to pay me a million dollars to get me back if things weren't miserable without me."

"You won't leave me again, will you?"

"Actually, Mr. Burns," he said, setting down his brandy.

"Oh, no."

"Julio got a job offer to do actors' headshots in Los Angeles. He asked around, and someone offered me a position as Executive Director of a theatre there. It'll be a pay cut at ninety-thousand a year, but I'd be working in a field I love."

"It sounds wonderful," he said, his voice falling on the final word.

"I'll still keep in touch. Besides, you'll be busy with that new wife of yours. Speaking of which, I haven't seen her in a couple days."

"Yes, well, she's been on a shopping spree in Milan." He stared into his reflection from his brandy. "I still can't believe you're married."

"Neither can I. But it's a change I needed in my life. It'll take time to adjust, but it's good we get to know each other in this new light, without the awkward tension. What will be nice about quitting is that we'll finally be on an equal footing."

"I thought you liked being my subordinate."

"No, Monty. I hated it." Burns' jaw dropped. "I've always hated it. I loved to assist you, but I never enjoyed being your inferior. I always wanted us to be equals. Whenever you emphasized my inferiority, it became painfully clear we would never have the kind of relationship I wanted." He took a long, slow sip of his brandy. "I'd rather we be platonic friends on an equal footing than being a tool you use for financial and sexual gratification."

"Please, don't leave me, Waylon. You've proven yourself to be every bit my equal. I'll promote you to Executive Vice President."

"I'm sorry. It's too little, too late."

"I'll pay you three hundred grand a year."

"No."

"Five hundred."

"Sorry."

"A million. Each year."

"This isn't about money."

"Not about money? Do you remember who you're talking to?"

"Yes. Do you? You're talking to the man who devoted half his life to chasing your tail only for you to propose to a woman you've known for all of a month who doesn't even love you."

"Where do you get off accusing Tiffany –"

"She's only after your money, Monty, and I know you aren't looking for just a piece of eye candy. You want to be with someone who truly loves you for who you are, and –"

"And why does this bother you so if you're over me like you say?"

"Because I care about you! Because I want you to be happy, and loved, and not be betrayed by some gold-digging floozy, and because I'll never be over you! As long as we're both breathing, I'll want you, and I'll never stop wanting you."

"So, you're jealous?"

"Haven't I earned the right to be? I've stood by you and watched as you've gotten with woman after woman, tormenting myself, wondering whether I would ever get a chance to bring you a little bit of the ecstasy that thoughts of you have brought me night after night. You don't want me; fine, I can accept that. But you were so cruel, reminding me time and again that I was beneath you. I understand how exquisite and beautiful a person you really are, and no one you've dated has come close to appreciating you fully."

"You make too many assumptions."

"Like what?"

"For instance, that I don't want you."

Waylon shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them slowly as he spoke deliberately. "Are you saying you desire me?" Burns nodded. "Physically?" Again, Burns nodded. "Why didn't you –?"

"I worried it would muddy our professional and personal relationships. Since you're quitting and moving across the country, those are no longer concerns of mine."

"I agree. It would be awful to muddy our relationships. It would be especially awful if we were, I don't know, engaged or married."

"Will you get a hold of yourself? We aren't going to sleep together tonight." He started to trace his initials on Smithers' shoulder. "But we might fool around."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Five-Day Engagement**

 **Chapter Three**

A chill went down Smithers' spine at the sharp, sensual stroking of Burns' bony finger, his lower lip drooping as he processed the enormity of what Burns was suggesting. Smithers moaned, arching his neck back.

Burns smiled. "If you like that, you'll love this." He pressed his upper teeth against the side of Smithers' neck, eliciting a low, sustained moan. Smithers' breath hitched in his chest as he felt Burn's tongue slide against his neck, and a tear slipped out of Smithers' eye. Lifting his mouth and looking in his eyes, Burns said, "Are you crying?"

Smithers sniffled as he inhaled, his breath shuddering as he said, "No." Seeing Burns' skeptical scowl, he said, "Okay, I guess I am crying a little. I just never thought we'd –" Burns wrapped his lips around Smithers', and each closed his eyes, hands feeling for shoulders and spines and tongues feeling for each other. Smithers' breathing steadied as his heart pounded faster. When Burns withdrew his lips, Smithers recaptured them and brought his hands to Burns' hips, sliding a hand down his leg and helping him straddle Smithers' torso.

Burns moved his lips to Smithers' ear and whispered, "You're better at this than I thought you'd be," before gently nibbling at his earlobe.

"I'm good at a lot of things, Monty."

"Is that so?" Burns pried himself up and off Smithers and headed for a nearby window seat, cushioned with red, velvety pillows. He lowered himself down on one of the pillows and raised an eyebrow. "Show me."

Smithers jumped out of the settee and ran to him, cupping the base of Burns' spine with one hand and one of Burns' shoulder blades with the other, leaning him onto his back. He straddled Burns' waist, being careful not to put his weight on the fragile old man, and leaned forward to lavish his neck with kisses. His kissing lost momentum, and he paused to say, "This is wrong. I'm married now. Julio would be crushed if he knew."

"Yes, well, luckily I can always count on you to do the wrong thing for me."

Smithers kissed his lips, moving one of his hands up to the back of Burns' head and running his fingers through his hair. "You know me too well, sir."

After Smithers kissed him a few more times, Burns pushed him away and said, "What the devil are you procrastinating for? Do you have some sort of a man-problem?"

Smithers' cheeks turned cherry red. "No, no! I just wasn't sure how far you wanted to – if it were up to me, I'd have already ripped your clothes off."

"Well, here's a hint, Sherlock," he said, attempting to unfasten his belt, but failing to. "Smithers..."

Smithers undid and pulled off the belt in one swift motion, tossing it aside. "Now I'll show you that boots aren't all I'm good at licking."

* * *

A stream of sunlight rushed at Smithers' eyes through the glass of the bay windows, and his eyes fluttered open. The weight of Burns' body on top of his soothed him, and he relished in the cool wetness of Burns' drool that had dripped onto his shoulder during the night. He caressed Burns' bare rib cage, then slid his hand down past the side of his equally naked hip and buttock, then back up again, making the memories of the previous night real again. He clasped his hands around Burns' shoulders and hugged him, gently rocking them, his eyes clenched shut as a tear slipped out of each of them.

Burns stirred, his eyelids opening a crack before falling with an almost audible thud as he fell back asleep, his chin dipping past Smithers' shoulder once again. Smithers kissed his cheek, eliciting a smile. Burns stroked the back of his neck, then tickled his ear. He opened an eye fully, then snapped the other one wide open. "Good heavens, Smithers! What happened to our clothes?"

"Um, I'm not sure," he said, fumbling for his glasses on the floor. "I threw your pants onto the settee, and you used your tie to tie my hands back." He adjusted his glasses over his eyes, and the other side of the room came into focus. "Oh! There's your underwear, right around that... Ming vase."

"I wasn't really asking; I was cracking a joke, making a pretense of having forgotten last night's events. Sheesh." Smithers looked into his slightly annoyed face with a silly grin. "What are you smirking about?"

"Monty, I feel like a new man. I never wanted last night to end. You're such a passionate lover. I never expected you to be so tender..."

Burns kissed the corner of his lips. "Yes, well, I've learned a trick or two in the last century."

"So, how was I?"

"You mean my moaning and screaming didn't tip you off?"

"Did you ever imagine you'd enjoy being with a man so much?"

Burns smirked dismissively. "You're not the first man I've been with."

"I'm not?"

"No."

"Anyone I'd know?"

"Yes, actually."

"Like who?"

"Nigel was my first."

"First man or first person?"

"Yes to both."

"I had no idea."

"Come, now, Smithers. Didn't you notice that he assumed you were my beau?"

"He wouldn't be the first to think we were an item."

Burns raised his eyebrows. "Who thinks we're an item?"

"Surely you've heard the rumors circulating at the country club?"

"Have even the Worthingtons endorsed the rumor?"

"Are you kidding? They're the ones who started the rumor." He grinned, and, squeezing Burns in his arms, said, "Aw, but who cares now that it's true?"

Burns slipped his arms inside Smithers' and guided them away from him. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about us."

"What?"

"Last night was our last hurrah as single men. Oh, I know, technically you were already married, but you never had a bachelor party –"

Smithers sat up, clutching a satin pillow against his chest. "What are you saying?"

"Waylon," said Burns, taking Smithers' hands into his, "what happened last night cannot happen again. I'm getting married tomorrow, and you're already married. We've indulged our mutual desires; isn't that enough?"

Smithers turned his head down, staring at their hands. "No, Monty. That's not enough. I love you deeply, and you knew that when you seduced me. You used me," he said, shutting his eyes, which dripped tears. "Damn it, I knew you could never give me the respect I need. How could I have been so gullible?" He cried in earnest, and Burns stroked and squeezed his hands. Smithers flung his hands away and cried into them. "How could you?"

"Waylon –" He put his hand on Smithers' shoulder, only for Smithers to instantly push it away.

"How could you make such passionate love to me then tell me it meant nothing?"

"It didn't mean 'nothing.' It meant something."

"What did it mean? Because I know it didn't mean anything near as much to you as it meant for me."

"I suppose not."

Smithers clutched at his own chest with one hand and clasped his forehead with the other. "How could you do this to me?" He grasped Burns hands in his and looked into his eyes. "Just tell me one thing, Monty. Tell me how you could toy with my emotions like this. How you could grant me one of my fondest wishes, only to dash my hopes like a unionized labor force?"

Burns averted his gaze. "I'm so sorry, Waylon. I thought you wanted to explore your fantasy but stay with your husband. I should have done my due diligence to make certain we were on the same page." He looked into Smithers' eyes. "This is what I always feared would happen if we ever acted on our rash desires. Now I've hurt you," he said, his voice faltering and helpless, "and this time I don't know how to make it better."

"There's only one thing that could make it better."

"That's the one thing I can't deliver."

"I know. I know, but I don't understand why," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "I would leave the man I married, who genuinely loves me and who I've known for a year, but you won't leave the woman you met less than a month ago who's only using you for your money."

"I know you're hurt, but these jealous lies –"

"They're not lies, and you know it."

"I won't discuss this with you."

"I just don't want you to be hurt. It hurts like hell to find out you were being used by someone you love."

"I told you I was sorry; isn't that enough?" As Smithers sniffled back a few tears, Burns leaned in and kissed him just below his eye. "I do love you, Waylon."

"I wish you meant that."

He stroked Smithers' back along his spine. "I suppose you won't feel like being my best man, now."

"No, I'll still do it." He gasped, his neck arching back. "That feels painfully good."

"Are you sure? I could make someone from the plant do it."

"I'll be okay." He stood, breaking their contact when it became too much to bear, and began looking for his boxers. "We need a proper 'goodbye,' anyway."

Burns stood and walked to the other side of the room, picked up a pair of orange boxer shorts from a lampshade, and took them to Smithers, who was crouched over an end table looking for his clothes. Burns poked him in the middle of his back with an index finger to get his attention, then wordlessly handed him the boxers. Smithers put them on, and then Burns held him fast. "Have a good life in LA, Waylon. I want to see lots of postcards."

"Thank you, Monty. Enjoy your life."

A middle-aged woman with dusty brown hair walked inside, her eyes wide and her mouth contorted in surprise and disgust. "What the hell?"

"Tiffany!" said Burns, whipping his head around and rapidly disengaging from Smithers. "We were just, uh, inspecting each other for suspicious moles."

Smithers said, "One can't be too careful."

"Uh-huh..." Tiffany studied the Ming vase, newly decorated with Burns' red polka dot underwear. "I'll be in the dining room having breakfast. You can come whenever you're done 'inspecting' each other." As she turned to leave, she said, "Oh, and on an unrelated note, from now on, I'm going to need you to use condoms whenever we get in the sack."

Burns sighed in relief. "Phew. She bought it."

"That's who you're leaving me for?" said Smithers, putting on his shirt.

"No, that's who I'm not leaving for you."

"What was she even doing here?"

"She's my fiancée. I gave her a key last week."

"And she didn't 'buy' anything," he said, putting his pants on. "She knows we slept together; she's just indifferent. Do you really want a wife who doesn't care if you're screwing other people on the side?"

"Just finish getting dressed and leave."

"Say what you want, but I know you don't." He put on his socks and shoes. Once he'd pulled his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, he reached for Burns' elbows and lightly squeezed. "I don't want you to get hurt," he said, then left, dreading the drive ahead and frantically grappling for convincing lies.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Five-Day Engagement**

 **Chapter Four**

"Waylon, where were you? Why didn't you call?" said Julio, somewhere between concerned and suspicious as Waylon walked into his apartment.

"It's, uh – a funny story, actually. I was – working late, like I said, and then, after my shift, I went out to get a bite to eat, but I had a craving for coconut crab, so I drove out to that Vanuatu restaurant in North Haverbrook, but I got a flat tire on the way, and my cell phone was dead, so I walked about a quarter mile to the nearest emergency call box, and then I waited over an hour for the Triple A guy to get there, and then I started driving back to Springfield, but I was falling asleep, so I pulled into a truck stop and slept for an hour, then charged my phone, got some coffee and eggs, then headed back here. I'm really exhausted, so you'll understand if I just want to lie in bed and rest, right?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," he said, following Smithers to his bed. "What an ordeal," he said, massaging Waylon's shoulder as he slumped onto his bed. Waylon moaned, his moan sliding into a whimper as he thought of how Burns had touched him less than an hour earlier. "Something else is bothering you." He sat beside him and looked up to the portrait of Burns hanging over the bed. "It's Mr. Burns' wedding, isn't it?" Waylon turned his head back to look Julio in the eyes and nodded, then looked down and away. Julio touched his cheek and said, "You deserve so much more than that man can give you," then kissed his lips. "I love you, Waylon," he said, caressing the back of his neck, teasingly fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "What happened to your bow tie?"

"My what?"

"Your bow tie. You always wear it to work. What happened to it?"

"My – oh." His pupils shrank in naked fear.

"And don't you keep an air pump and extra tire in your car?"

"Um..."

"Waylon," said Julio, anger bubbling to the surface, "where were you last night?"

Waylon's chest quivered, his eyes clenched shut and shoulders bobbing as he fought back an onslaught of tears. "I'm so sorry, Julio." He inhaled sharply, a tear tracing a well-worn path from his left eye.

Julio gasped. "You were with _him_." He dropped his head into his hands. "I knew this would happen. I trusted you with my heart and you chewed it up like William Shatner chews the scenery."

"Julio, I'm sorry. There's no excusing what I did, but it was a drunken mistake, and it won't happen again. We're moving to California, right? Mr. Burns won't get between us anymore, I swear."

"Was it? Or was our marriage a drunken mistake?"

"No, no, I'm serious about us. And he's serious about his fiancée. He told me in no uncertain terms that we'd never be intimate again. Even if I wanted to cheat on you with him again, he'd never agree to it."

"Okay," he said, closing his eyes and sighing, "we'll give this another try." Julio kissed his cheek. "You're too cute to give up on." He massaged Waylon's neck. "Why don't I remind you of how passionate sex with me can be?" Julio unbuttoned his own shirt, slowly and tantalizingly, then tossed it aside and kissed Waylon, releasing the top buttons of his shirt, prompting Waylon to undo the rest starting from the bottom.

"Mm. Julio," he said as Julio kissed his chest, "I have an idea."

"Yes?"

"Get one of my bow ties from the dresser."

"Why do you want your bow tie," said Julio, pulling Waylon's shirt off him, "when you're not even wearing a shirt anymore?"

"I don't want to tie it around my neck," he said, stroking Julio around his collar bone. "I want you to tie my hands with it."

* * *

Early the next morning, as Waylon meticulously dressed himself in black tie and checked that the ring was in his pocket, Julio sat on his bed, wearing his tuxedo. "I still don't like you being his best man."

"I don't like it any better than you do, but I promised him. I'm his best, and really, only friend, and the only way he could replace me at such short notice is by hiring someone to do it. I couldn't put him in that position."

"Oh, but he could put you in this position?"

"I know, I know. But we're going to be leaving, anyway, and I really need some closure on our relationship. I had to dash out of there in a flash after his fiancée caught us. It didn't really afford us the time for a proper goodbye."

"I understand. Monty has been close to your heart for half your life. His branches have grown around the chambers of your heart, and you can't untangle that in a day."

Waylon hugged him. "You understand me." With some pats of his back, he took a few steps back from Julio. "How do I look?"

"Like you will be the most handsome man in the room. Well, besides me." He winked. "All eyes will be on you, not the groom."

With a smile, Waylon took his hand and said, "Let's get going."

* * *

At the church, guests filed in and filled the pews. Upon their entrance, Mr. Burns rushed over to them. "Waylon, I'm so glad to see you," he said, shaking his hand with both of his. "And you," he said, turning to Julio. "You must be his new husband, Julio." He shook his hand in a similarly affable manner. "I hope you have many wonderful years together, and that California treats you well. We must get better acquainted. There will be plenty of opportunities for that at your reception, though."

Julio turned to Waylon and said, "You invited him to our reception?"

Waylon, speaking low, said to Monty, "He knows."

"Oh." He bit his lower lip and looked down for a moment, then looked at them again, saying, "Well, I'm much too wealthy to endure awkward conversations like this. Take care, Smithers." He walked away to argue belligerently with the organist.

Waylon spotted Tiffany near the front of the church before slipping into a back room. "Julio, I need to talk to Tiffany for a moment. You know, to clarify things about the other night."

"Do what you must."

"Thanks," said Waylon, putting his hand on Julio's shoulder for a moment before leaving and following Tiffany to a room where AA meetings were held. "Tiffany," he said, trying to disguise the bitter jealousy in his heart.

"Oh, it's you, Waylon," she said, sounding more surprised than he thought she should, given that he'd driven them on plenty of dates. "I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on." While he blushed, aghast at her remark, she said, "What do you want?"

Meanwhile, after his altercation with the organist, Monty headed for a water cooler in a nearby hall to slake his thirst. The door of a nearby room was ajar, and he heard Waylon's voice from inside, so he paused and stayed still as he listened intently.

"I wanted to say that, while I've doubted the sincerity of your relationship with Monty, I realize that jealousy might have clouded my judgment. So, please, only marry him if you truly love him, if you would love him just as much if he were destitute. Because I know, although he may seem harsh and hardened by life, deep down, he's a very sensitive man who ultimately just wants to be loved. He's captivated by you because you take him on adventurous, romantic dates, making him feel like he's Cary Grant. I was jealous because that's how I've always wanted to make him feel. But if you truly love him, I can give you my blessing."

After a moment of silence between them, Tiffany burst into laughter. "You can't be serious? How could you possibly think I'm actually in love with that old reptile? He's hideous, inside and out!"

Enraged, his chest puffed as he said, "How dare you talk about Monty like that?"

"Don't think I'm not on to you, either. Your persistent opposition to our relationship has nothing to do with your little spiel about 'true love.' It's about protecting your arrangement with your sugar daddy and making sure he leaves his fortune to you when he kicks the bucket."

"You couldn't be more wrong," he said, trying to collect his nerves. "I already know I'm not in his will. It didn't change how much I love him. I was hurt, yes, that he didn't include me at all. But that was because I didn't measure up as an equal to him. Not because I was in love with his ledger."

"Wait, you're serious." She contemplated seriously for a moment before snickering. "You're really in love with him?"

"Yes!"

"You actually enjoyed sleeping with him?"

"He's the best lover I've ever had. I'd never felt so perfectly synchronized with another man."

"Wow. So, I'm guessing you have daddy issues or something?"

"You leave my father out of this!"

"I'm going to guess that's a 'yes,' then."

"You can't marry him. Please."

"It's not like he's getting nothing out of the deal. Maybe you didn't notice, but I'm pretty smoking hot," she said, outlining her ample bosom and curvaceous hips with her hands.

"He doesn't just want a trophy wife who looks good and is willing to screw him, though. He wants a lover."

"And you think you can be that lover, do you?"

"I think I could."

"Reality check, Waylon – guys like Monty are a dime a dozen. They'll have a little – or a lot of – casual fun with other men, but they won't have a relationship with another man. They always wind up settling down with a woman, because the fact is, as a man, you'll just never measure up to what he's looking for."

"That's your opinion." He took some steps toward the door, and Monty retreated to the other end of the hall, walked past the pews and out a side door to the parking lot.

"What have I done?" he said, sitting hunched over on a cracked cement step, pulling desperately at his hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Five-Day Engagement**

 **Chapter Five**

Waylon sat by Julio and looked around for Mr. Burns. Julio said, "So, how did your talk go? She's still going to marry him, right?"

"Yes," he said, his eyelids half-closed in a sullen slump. "It's worse than I thought; not only does she not love him, she doesn't even like him!" he said in a whisper, wishing not to humiliate Burns by revealing to the other attendees that the marriage was a sham. "I don't know if I can even read my speech at the reception."

"You aren't going to try to talk him out of the wedding, are you?"

"No. If he wouldn't listen to me before, he won't listen to me now. He thinks I'm just jealous of her."

"Maybe he just wants a hot young woman to sleep with and isn't looking for true love. Maybe you only think he wants true love because that was how you convinced yourself he really wanted you."

"Maybe. That would make me feel a little better."

"Oh, look, there's Monty now." They looked to where Burns walked in near the pews in the back, hunched over more than usual, his eyes to the floor.

"He looks sad. Please, tell me it's my imagination."

Julio said, obviously lying, "Oh – it's all in your head, Waylon. He looks – thoughtful. Yes, he looks... spiritually reverent."

Reverend Lovejoy approached Burns and spoke to him briefly, then went to Waylon. "We're going to get started soon. You do have the rings ready?"

"Yes, I do." He stood, but before going to Burns, he took Lovejoy aside. "Reverend, I'm in a quandary, and I need some advice."

"Certainly, my child. Is it about your Vegas wedding?"

"No, it's about Mr. Burns. I've had my suspicions for weeks, but a little while ago, I spoke with the bride, and she told me she doesn't love Mr. Burns at all and only wants his money."

"You know, many old, rich men will marry a woman for her beauty while she marries him for his money. He may not expect her to love him."

"Doesn't it bother you to officiate at a wedding that amounts to a transaction of sex and money?"

"Well...yes, but 500 dollars is 500 dollars."

"I still don't think that's what he's after. I'm his closest friend, and the way he's talked about her, I'm sure he's in love and thinks she loves him back."

"Hm...well, that is a problem, then. Waylon, as his friend, it's incumbent upon you to tell him what she said."

"But I don't think he'll believe me. I've tried to tell him she's only after his money before, but he thinks I just want to break them up because I'm in love with him."

"Hmm." Lovejoy furrowed his brow. "I still think you should try to tell him once more. If he doesn't listen, then at least you gave it a shot."

"Thank you, Reverend." He walked toward Burns, brought a hand to his shoulder, and guided him to the lobby area of the church. "Monty, we need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

"I spoke with Tiffany a little while ago, and she told me she doesn't love you, at all."

"I know, Waylon."

"You do?"

"Yes. She's only after my money, like you said." His head drooped into his chest.

"Oh, Monty, I'm so sorry." Waylon hugged him. "How did you find out?"

"I overheard your conversation," he said, the corner of his lips pressing against Waylon's shoulder. "I'm sorry for doubting your motives. You were looking out for me the whole time."

"Don't apologize. Even I was beginning to doubt my motives." They slid their hands down each other's arms until their embrace was broken. "So, what's your next move?" Monty's chest quavered with a heartbroken sigh, and Waylon brought his fingertips to his down-turned cheek, capriciously tracing circles over the skin newly wet with tears. He slid his hand forward until his fingertips brushed Monty's ears, then dragged them down to his neck and the curve of his jaw as he closed his lips in and kissed him, his shoulder raised as his fingertips danced around Monty's cheek and neck. Monty leaned into the kiss and brought a hand to the back of his head, fingers getting tangled in a lock of his hair. They kissed for what felt like a full minute, unaware and uncaring whether anyone had seen them, their separation so gradual they felt as though they were moving in slow-motion.

"Waylon," said Monty, "I love you."

He slumped against Monty's shoulder, a couple of muted sobs escaping his lips. Monty patted his back with both hands, then stroked him with each hand up to his shoulders and down to his hips and up again. "I've waited... so long... to hear you say that, and mean it," he said, wiping a tear from his cheek onto Monty's cheek. "And now that you have... I don't know what to say."

"You could tell me you love me, too."

"I do love you, Monty." He placed his hands on his shoulders. "But do you have any idea how much you've hurt me? Not only yesterday, but for years."

"I know I've been a cad, but you'll forgive me, won't you?"

"I'm not so sure I can."

"I don't see why not. You've forgiven much worse of me."

"That's exactly why I don't think I can this time. I can't trust you to respect me after all these years being your disposable lackey. I thought love could overcome that disparity between us, but after yesterday morning, I lost my last shred of faith that we could ever have the loving relationship of equals I've always wanted. And Monty, if I could only have a crude facsimile of my fantasy life with you, it would kill me slowly from the inside."

Monty clasped his hands around Waylon's. "What can I do to show you I will respect you as my equal?"

Waylon sniffed a tear back and turned away. "It's too late." He turned his head back to face him once more and opened his mouth to say something, then shut his eyes and turned sharply away, heading into the main hall.

After about thirty minutes, Monty approached Lovejoy and directed him to commence the ceremony. Tiffany's father walked her down the aisle, and Waylon accompanied Monty to the front. As Lovejoy began to read the vows for him to agree to, Monty cleared his throat and said, "I've prepared some vows of my own, actually."

"Very well," said Lovejoy.

"Tiffany. When we first met, I fell head-over-heels for you. You seemed to offer me the world, and as I've always wanted to try my hand at world domination, it seemed a match made in heaven. But today, I've realized we are a match made in hell! And not in a good way. You are nothing but a duplicitous vixen unfit even to scrub my floors! I cannot vow my love or fidelity to you, because I have none of it for you. I want you out of my will and out of my life! There's only one person I would vow my love or fidelity to, but he won't hear me out, so I'll say my piece now, while he's a captive audience.

"Waylon," he said, turning to him, "I have nothing but regret for the many, many times I've used you as a mere means to an end, another tool to acquire profit. I was afraid that if you were too successful, you'd leave me for greener pastures. It was wrong of me to try to control you like that. You deserved so much better than I gave you, and I swear, if I could go back and do it again, I'd treat you as my coequal, my enduring companion, my ideal complement. I know it's too late for us, and I can't rectify the past. So I did the next best thing: I called my lawyer and had him run and get my will and a witness, and I amended it. Waylon Smithers," he said, caressing the backs of his hands, "you will be the sole beneficiary of my estate when I pass on. You will inherit my entire fortune, because nothing leaves me so exquisitely fulfilled as knowing that you love me, and if you won't accept my love in return, this is all I can do to repay you."

"Monty..." He curled his fingers upward. "If you really mean it, we can make this work." He took Monty's hand and walked to where Julio sat, slumped in dejection. "Julio... I'm so sorry."

"That's the last time I get married on a whim," he said, twisting off his ring and throwing it at Waylon, then running off to the lobby.

Waylon let go of Monty's hand and ran after him. "I know nothing I can say will make it better, but please, know I didn't mean to put you through this. If I had had any idea that he felt that way about me, I'd never have asked you to marry me in the first place and gotten your hopes up."

"Please, Waylon, don't try to console me. I just need to be alone." He wiped a tear from his eye.

"Take care, Julio. I know you'll find a great guy. I bet he'll be much hotter than I am, and he won't be a cheating scoundrel like me or Monty. You'll be able to meet a lot of eligible bachelors in LA, and I just know your career is going to take off."

"That actually makes me feel a little better."

"Good. I'm glad," he said, hugging him and patting his back, "because every word of it is true." He went back inside the main hall, walking down the aisle toward Monty, ignoring the throngs of people whispering and gossiping about him.

"Do you still have my ring?" asked Monty, and Waylon produced it from his pocket.

"Yes, but I don't know what you'd want with it now."

"Just shut up and give it to me," he said, and Waylon handed it to him. Monty slid it onto his left ring finger, then held Waylon's hands. "Preacher boy, we need you to marry us," he barked to Lovejoy.

"Mr. Burns, a loveless marriage is one thing, but a homosexual union? I cannot in good faith officiate."

"Look here, I paid for a wedding ceremony, and I'll have one, whether you like it or not."

"The answer is no," said Lovejoy, crossing his arms and turning his back on them.

"Ooh, ooh!" said Homer from a pew. "I'll do it!"

"Smithers, who is that unruly oaf?"

"That's Homer Simpson, sir, one of your employees at the nuclear plant."

"Pick me!" said Homer. "I'm officially an ordained minister. I'll perform a gay wedding!"

"Excellent."

Homer giddily skipped to the altar. "Once I get my fee," he said, eyes half-lidded as he held out his hand.

Sighing, Monty said, "What's your fee?"

Homer thought, _I normally charge 200 dollars a couple. But he's rich, so I should charge him even more._ "One hundred dollars," he said, his voice sly, then sneakily chuckled.

Monty pulled out his wallet and handed him a hundred dollar bill. "Here you go."

"Heh, heh, heh... D'oh!"

"Now, get cracking and marry us already!"

"Okie dokie. Do you, Monty Burns, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"And do you, Waylon Smithers, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

A tear dripping out of one eye, he said, "I do."

"I pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss each other."

They kissed, at first delicately, Waylon's lips around Monty's upper lip and Monty's lips around Waylon's lower lips, and then they kissed deeply, moaning softly into each other's mouths.

"You're truly my best man, in every sense." He hugged Waylon. "Since most of the invited guests have left with the bride, why don't we cancel the reception, bring the orchestra home, and have our dance in the ballroom of the manor?"

"Mmm...sounds lovely." They parted. "Wait – we should get Tiffany's key to the manor so she can't get in anymore."

"My goons have already taken care of it."

Waylon picked up Julio's ring from beside one of the pews. "I feel awful that us getting together came at the expense of Julio, though."

"Oh, he'll get over it."

He leaned his head against Monty's shoulder. "Please, tell me you really meant everything you said. I don't think my heart could take another beating."

"I really do," he said, stroking the back of his hand, then held it, palm to palm. "Now, let's go home, and I'll make you some tea to soothe your nerves. Then I'll give you a back rub, and after our dance, I'll draw you a bath."

"You'll really do all that for me?"

"Yes, well, after twenty years of you serving me, I have a lot to make up for," he said, squeezing Waylon's hand. "But don't get too used to it; we'll be equals from now on, but I have no intention of reversing our roles."

They walked hand in hand to the limousine and sat side by side in the driver and passenger seats. "You know what I was thinking, Monty?" he said as he started the car.

"What?"

"Thank God we skipped being engaged and went straight to marrying each other."

Monty chuckled and ran his hand along Waylon's shoulder. "I'm glad, too... Ironically, since of all my potential spouses, I've found you to be the most engaging." Monty started playing a cassette tape, a mix tape that Waylon had made for him a long time ago, and they blasted Queen's "You're My Best Friend" as they drove away from the church.

* * *

 **AUTHOR NOTE** **: Originally I started writing this as a challenge to write it in 24 hours, but it took a little longer, more like 72 hours. The idea of Smithers and Julio getting hitched when Smithers is trying to get over Burns is an idea I had three years ago but never did anything with it, and I'm glad I waited, because it wouldn't have been nearly as good, then.**


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